by Alex Bacchus (they/them)

Anglophone Indo-Caribbean Communities from the Greater Toronto Area and New York City to Guyana and Trinidad commonly use the c-word as a reclaimed term. It is a word I grew up hearing casually, with ease and pride, a creolese way to locate and gender myself while living in diaspora of constantly being the “other” before discovering the term “Indo-Caribbean.”

The word can be upsetting for some, and I am still learning how upsetting this term can be. For many Surinamese in the Netherlands, this word carries the same weight as the n-word in English. This is something I just learned. While many of us may use the c-word casually (including myself), we must have greater sensitivity and awareness of how violent and painful the word still is and how different diasporas have different relationships with the word.

The word is rooted in the labour and brutality our ancestors survived. It was a status they were given and limited to. What does it mean for us to locate ourselves in this? How do we reconcile this?

I have been very ignorant about the harm this word causes. Different diasporas are having different conversations, and I observe an inherent language barrier that does not allow for various diasporas to be in full conversation with one another. To embark on a mission of decolonial practices, reconciliation and ancestral healing, and to stand in solidarity with our kin, those–who may distantly be our cousins–descending from indenture and overlapping histories, it is essential to hear their voices.

When we are causing pain, we have to listen and accommodate.

Despite having similar historical starts, we have grown two cultures differently, even if only a river separates us. Yet, we have so much to learn from eachother.